


Seven  times Napoleon Calmed Illya with a Kiss and One time Illya Did

by SlashyUnicorn



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Body Hair, Erotic Electrostimulation, Facials, Fluff, Illya should really learn how to control his emotion, Illya's and Napoleon's obsession with each other's hair, M/M, torture aftermath (brief)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 07:23:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4697276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlashyUnicorn/pseuds/SlashyUnicorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the way Illya shook, Napoleon could see how the anger management class had been a failure.</p><p>He turned Illya’s head towards him, earning a protest grunt and, he knew, if he’s not fast enough, a (very painful, very strong) fist to his face.</p><p>He kissed Illya hard on his lips.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seven  times Napoleon Calmed Illya with a Kiss and One time Illya Did

**One**

Napoleon’s contract with the CIA would end in just two years and he wouldn’t admit this out loud even with a gun pointed on his head, but he would hate not working with Illya again. This past few years, Kuryakin has morphed into Illya (the nickname Peril still on though), their nightly drinking time making them closer, close enough for Napoleon to see the slightly relaxed side of Illya. He would never completely be at ease with him, Napoleon knew that, they were both spies after all. But it was enough.

“What are you smirking about?”

“Nothing.” But Napoleon keep smirking, just for his own entertainment, watching Illya attempt to hold himself back from rolling his eyes because it was _‘not becoming of a spy to do that’._

Now they were on a mission together. Trying to steal a missile code and location from Antonio Pazzi, one of the descendants of the famous Pazzi family. What’s with them and the Italian, Napoleon wondered. So the millionaire rumored to be making this dangerous missile and planning on targeting both America and Russia. He had a lot of guts to even plan to do that, Napoleon admit. 

And apparently the man also a well-known homosexuals, in the circle. Who host secret meetings with his socialite peers once a year. So this is the perfect opportunity for them to infiltrate the place. He knew there were lots of other male agents in the U.N.C.L.E, but still Waverly was quick to send him, perhaps knowing his little ‘activity’ on the side, cruising along with beautiful men and women of various nationalities and backgrounds. He probably sent Illya just out of spite. Since he almost compromise the mission by not keeping up with his acting as a post-war psychologist very well. The anger management (and acting class) not working very well then.

If only Illya would stop trying to ruin their mission (again) by looking at one of Antonio’s lover like he was about to punch him in the face. He can’t blame Illya. After all, the other guy had been very insulting by putting the word “father” and “cocksucker” at the same sentences right in front of Illya. Right in the sensitive subject.

As entertaining as its sound, quietly observing while his partner trembles in anger, palm opened and closed in quick motion, eyes blinking rapidly, they did have a mission to accomplish.

“Darlin’, I’m sure Mr. Santino didn’t mean what he said before, right?” he put his hand of Illya’s shoulder, and looked at the lover of Antonio, willing him desperately to cooperate, but the guy’s just too drunk to even stand straight let alone hear him.

“Of course not, _signore._ ” He said, and Napoleon almost sighed in relief, but then he had to continue with a giggle and “Just kidding. Your father’s still a cocksucker and your mother’s a whore.”

Illya’s way stronger than him and the effort to restrain him from completely obliterating the completely rude guy was about to fail. He thought hard, searching for ways to stop this disaster from happening but he could only think of one way.

Well. Best get on with it then.

He turned Illya’s head towards him, earning a protest grunt and, he knew, if he’s not fast enough, a (very painful, very strong) fist to his face.

He kissed Illya hard on his lips. 

The shocked sound was to be expected, after all they haven’t had any practice for this mission yet, although he already remind Illya that they might have to do it since they posed as lovers, and so they need to do a little bit of training first (especially since he knew Illya’s inexperienced with men). Illya just frowned, shook his head, and turned away then. And look and behold, he was right. For one second he thought Illya’s going to push him away, from the way how tense his jaw was, but the Russian just stood there, shocked to hell and back. 

It seems like extra effort is needed. 

Napoleon soften the kiss, running his tongue slowly on Illya’s lips, one of his hand was on the other’s hips while another was on the nape of Illya’s hair, playing with his (surprisingly soft) hair, running his hand through it and hoping it’ll relax and distract him enough. Soon, he can feel the other relaxed gradually, closing his eyes and gave in to the kiss. He opened his lips, seemingly to invite Napoleon in and well, he wasn’t someone who’d refuse an invite. 

Slowly, he pushed his tongue in, meeting Illya’s inside and once they’ve touch Illya’s moaned, his hands sneaked to Napoleon’s hips ( _when did it get there?_ ), dragging them closer. And they would’ve get on with it too, if not for certain someone clearing their throat, namely the voice of Gaby on their ears from their smaller and newer communicator. “The mission, remember? That first and then you can make out as much as you want.” Napoleon could almost hear her smirking at the other side of the line.

Illya quickly moved away from him, although he still kept one hand on Napoleon’s hip for cover. It was steadier than before, even though he can feel how embarrassed (and if he was right, and he almost always is, scared) Illya was, from the way his pointer finger kept tapping his back, nervous tick that Illya could never quite get rid of. The other patrons only grinned at their show of affection and Napoleon grinned back. The suspicion gone from their eyes. 

Good, that was mostly Illya’s fault, though. The man didn’t even have affectionate in his dictionary (Russian _and_ English), and probably going to say _‘it is the Russian way’_ when confronted about it. 

Anyone could see, from the moment they entered the room. Standing a bit far away from him (at first), giving him the stink eye, and the silent treatment? And they were supposed to be lovers?

“By the way, you’re both good to go. Alarm deactivated.” Well, well, well. Look who’s getting good with the technology.

Time to rob the rich guy, Napoleon’s favorite part of the mission. “Apologize, gentlemen. We are terribly sorry, but we have to leave your party early to take care of—“ He gave a lewd look towards Illya, earning him a rare blush that was just so adorable. “—something. If you know what I mean.” He finished that with a wink that seemed to work as they laughed, him being dragged by Illya (who was actually just eager to finish the mission) on the hips seemed to amused them.

\--------------------------------------

**Two**

They got the code, of course. And the location of the missile. They managed to deactivate it when it was activated remotely and brought it back to their Waverly. It was one of the rare overly smooth missions, so rare that Napoleon kept checking and rechecking everything to make sure nothing was left out. From the corner of his eyes he could see Illya doing the same. 

They were packing up their bags to check out from the hotel, and go on to their long overdue vacation. Separately, of course. They booked one room with king-sized bed, as they were supposed to be lovers. So now they both had their suitcase on each side of the bed, trying to fit their clothes and equipment into the bag, standing face to face.

Illya still won’t look at his eyes though. 

This is rare. “Are you still embarrassed about the kiss? Wouldn’t take you for a blushing virgin boy, Peril. Not that there’s anything wrong with saving your virginity for special someone.”

Finally, Illya looked at him, glaring at him with murderous look that Napoleon knows most of it was just a bluff. “I am not a virgin. And I do not blush.”

 _Huh._ Cute. Illya’s actually pretty cute. Tall and strong, but so, very, cute. How come he didn’t notice this before?

Illya saw the smile and seemed to think the opposite of what he was thinking. “Do not insult me, Solo.”

Napoleon held his hands up as a sign of peace. “Trust me, I’m not.”

From the way he scoffed Napoleon could tell that Illya absolutely do not trust him. “I believed you have an expression for that. ‘I wouldn't trust you as far as I could throw you’ is it?”

But he could see the trembles again, the other couldn’t seem to hold his overloaded emotions in check, somehow thinking Napoleon had insulted him by accusing him of his inexperience. 

“Peril, calm down. I’m not insulting you.”

Illya began to take short breaths like he was about to hyperventilate. Telling him to calm down when he was about to burst probably not the best idea he had. 

An idea formed in his head. Maybe, just maybe he can use the thing he did before as a permanent solution. Hopefully.

“Well then....” he walked slowly, letting the other knew his intention. Illya’s taller than him, so he reached out, slowly, as if reaching for a wounded animals, but he supposed Illya was, in a way. The treatment on his past had made him into a broken man. But he too knew that he was broken, from long time ago. And what are they, him and Illya, except broken men trying to make their place in the world. 

He repeated what he did before, kissing Illya slowly and softly while playing with his hair. It seemed to be his weak spot, Napoleon filed that for later use. Also, he was enjoying Illya’s hair too much, running his fingers back and forth through the soft strand. It was oddly soothing.

He was about to deepened the kiss when Gaby burst in, holding her sunglasses in one hand and shouting “I’ve been waiting for half an hour in the lobby, what the hell are you two doing?”

She stopped short at the sight, eyes wide. Napoleon can see the amusement in it, although again Illya moved away fast, closed his suitcase and flee with just “I will go out first.” on his lips. 

They stood in silence for about a minute until Gaby said, “So. You and Illya huh.”

Napoleon cocked his head. He had thought that Gaby would mind more about this, considering her history with the Russian but she just looked amused and a little bit happy. “You don’t seem to mind, Gaby. Curious.”

“I’m relieved, actually. I don’t want to sound too confident or anything, but I was afraid he still hanged up on me. Thankfully, he moved on.” She thought about that for a moment.

“And I don’t mind that you were both men. I always think all love should be equal.” She twirled the sunglasses in her hand. “Although, I suppose moving on to the most famous womanizer of the planet doesn’t seem to be a wise thing to do.”

Napoleon put his hand on his heart as he feigned hurt, “You hurt me, Gaby. I _am_ a faithful lover, you know. All that sex with villainous women was just for my job.”

She eyed him with dubious eyes. “Right.”

“It’s true.” He shrug. “Committed, long term relationship have their perks but I just never found the right person to share it with.”

She raised one of her perfect eyebrow. “And now?”

“We’ll see.”

“Hm.” With that, and a thoughtful look on her face, she left the room, leaving Napoleon to finish packing and meet her and Illya downstairs.

He walks side by side with Illya, Gaby at the front talking with Waverly. “Do you ever think about it?” Illya’s voice was small.

“What? The kiss?”

He could almost feel the tension on Illya’s shoulder. “We are both men.”

Napoleon hummed in confirmation. “Men, women. They’re not so different when it comes to sex and relationship, really.”

He can feel the disbelieving look at the back of his head, but he kept walking. Illya will understand (and maybe reciprocate). In time. He just had to keep giving the right push.

\--------------------------------------

**Three**

Another mission, this time they were in the middle of a shootout with the Germans, what was left on Hitler’s Nazi regime, trying to revive the propaganda by recruiting Hitler look-a-like. The guy turns out not just a bastard, literally, since he was actually Hitler’s bastard, but also a foul mouth, dirtier than the sewer. “Ha! I know all about you, Illya Kuryakin! You and your filthy father!”

 _Not again._ They have to do something about that issue somehow. 

This time, the trembles start from the left hand, and he can see it slowly grabbing Illya’s control, his breath shorten and his eyes blinking rapidly. He quickly raised his gun, too quickly for Napoleon to realize what he was about to do, and shot fake Hitler on the head, killing him instantly. It didn’t seem enough though, as he kept shooting. 

And shooting. 

And shooting. 

Then he proceed to wreck the office, items began to fly around the rooms, tables destroyed, books torn. His rage was out of control.

They were supposed to take fake Hitler alive. But they were also ordered to shoot to kill if necessary. Diminishing Illya’s rage seemed necessary enough. And he can’t blame him, really, because it was kind of satisfying to see Hitler dead. Even if he’s not the real one. 

But when Illya didn’t stop with the destruction he began to worry. “Peril, come on, we have to get going!” he called. Illya didn’t seem to hear him.

“Kuryakin, hey! We don’t have time for this.” 

Still not stopping.

“Illya!” he called, moving his gun aside to put his hand on Illya’s shoulder. He jerked, automatically aiming the gun at Napoleon’s chest. “Hey.” Napoleon just raised both of his hand, dropping the gun in the process, a non-threatening sign. “It’s me, Napoleon. Not the fake Hitler, remember?”

Eyes wide, frantic movement of gun aimed towards both Napoleon and body of the fake Hitler respectably. He slowly realize where he was, and after taking several large gulp of air, finally drop his gun as if it offended him.

“Illya, hey. Hey, look at me.” Napoleon snapped his finger in quick motion, body darting to Illya’s side. They don’t have time for this. The German’s reinforcement will soon be here. Illya looked at him. Looking, but not seeing. So many things going on inside his head, Napoleon could see that. So he did what was familiar to him.

He kissed Illya again.

It was hard and quickly ends, far more quickly for Napoleon’s (and Illya’s, it looks like) liking but time is short. “I—“ he could see the reluctant look Illya gave him.

“What? Do you need another kiss?” he smirked

Illya snapped himself out of his reverie and shook his head. “No.” Napoleon absolutely did not see the way his pupil got bigger at the suggestion. 

He handed Illya his gun and picked his own. “Then let’s get moving.”

“Yes.”

They proceed to carve their way out.

\--------------------------------------

**Four**

They were at the hotel, again. This time recovering from their injury they gained at the German’s base. It was just bruises and scrapes, thankfully. Not every day a man escaped a Nazi’s base and said that. There were a couple of dangerous time they escaped, of course. A few bullets almost made their home in both of their heads. And that time the big German guy with a tattoo almost embedded his knife into Napoleon’s guts, but all in all, it was one of their best mission. As their worse mostly ended with him (and sometimes both of them. Or all three of them) on the hospital bed for at least a week.

He can see the way Illya kept glancing at him and he can’t take it anymore. “Something you want?”

“Uh. I—“ he opened his mouth to speak but suddenly closed it. “Nothing.”

It seems Illya didn’t dare to voice what he wants. Yet. 

So Napoleon dared himself, like what he always did, and gave an open mouth kissed to Illya. The other clenched his hand on his side. Nervousness and fear got to him already. Making him clamped up and almost hyperventilating. “Apologize. Seems like you’re not ready for this. I’ll leave.”

He was about to grab his clothes and get out of the room when a hand quickly grabbed his arm. “No! I—I want. This.”

Napoleon sighed. Never before he had a partner as hot and cold as Illya was right now. Crazy? Sure, he had lots of them. Didn’t mean that Illya is sane, but, well, crazy _and_ confusing? This was a first. Men and women usually just throw themselves at him.

They kissed again, this time hard, with tongue and teeth clashing and trying to best and dominate one another. He can see how uncertain Illya was, so he pushed him on the bed while smirking. Thankfully, they were both have discarded their clothes before, not seeing the need to keep wearing blood-stained shirts and pants, both still in their underwear. Napoleon climbed on top of Illya, kissing the other with ferocities he usually saved for his wilder partner. Illya quickly turned them both so he was on top and their kissed each other until their need to breath was too strong. “You are a good kisser.”

“I know.” He knew he annoyed the Russian with his answer but he can’t help it. “You too.”

\--------------------------------------

**Five**

They had sex regularly now, and it was great. After the initial uncertainty, which Napoleon oh so patiently winded out of him, that there was nothing wrong with having sex with another man, Illya actually was a tiger in a sack, so to speak. All that repressed emotion turned into passion was the best. Especially the angry sex. Doesn’t mean he can’t do gentle though. 

Surprisingly, Illya turned out to be such a romantic Napoleon would blush if he can, and far more experienced lover. But he was, in a way, inexperience. Since this was his first time having a committed relationship. Doesn’t mean he won’t have sex for the mission (Illya assured him that he understand, which was somehow making Napoleon disappointed that he won’t object more to it).

But then he saw how jealous Illya was, every time he had to flirt with their target or to get information. One time he confronted Illya about it, after he saw him slipping the laxative into a lady’s drink. A lady whose lips was on his a few minutes ago.

“That wasn’t very nice of you.” Illya feigned ignorance. “What do you mean?”

“Pretending to be stupid doesn’t work with me, Peril. Are you actually jealous of me kissing the duchess’ daughter? You do realize it was so I can steal her very fine, very nice ruby ring so we can unlock the safe, right?” he thought Illya’s going to deny it. It was certainly his usual _modus operandi._ He was wrong.

“Why won’t I be jealous? You are my man.” He frowned. “No, it does not seem right. You are my lover, yes. Mine. I understand you have to, for the mission, but I will not be happy about it.”

That was the first time Illya was straightforwardly honest, and it was about their relationship. Just one kiss and he can see how unhappy Illya was about it. He was tapping his pointer finger irritably at his thigh while gritting his teeth painfully. 

Napoleon sighed and stand on his tiptoes (disadvantage of having a giant for a lover) to give Illya a peck on the lips. What he didn’t expect, was, for Illya to grab his hips and prevent him from moving back, deepened the kiss with tongue and everything. They were both breathing hard, after.

“You do realize how cute you are right now, right?”

Illya scowled. “How many times did I tell you? I am a Russian spy. I am not cute.”

Napoleon just laughed and proceed to kiss the life out of Illya’s mouth, again.

\--------------------------------------

**Six**

Napoleon used the kiss every time to calm him down. Does not mean he was happy about it. But it did make their mission easier. He admitted that it was unprofessional of him, not being able to control his emotion as he was a professional KGB agent but his father was his weak spot. 

And it seemed now he has another. _Napoleon Solo._ This other agent, one of the younger candidate for of U.N.C.L.E’s new member, saw Napoleon kissed him in the middle of the day. He already warned him, but the infuriating American, _chert yego,_ always doing things as he pleased. The agent did not know who he was, but he spat at Napoleon, telling how disgusting they were, _god cursed fag,_ he said. And how he always knew by the way Napoleon dress so stylishly. _Always knew you were the type to beg for a cock, Solo._ Needless to say a nose was broken. And it was not his.

He still got the tremble afterward. His hands shook no matter what he did. He willed them to understand, to be controlled. _Ostat'sya yeshche!_ but still they refused. He did not even how short his breath was or how tightly he grabbed Napoleon’s arm until the other said “Hey, easy on the arm, will you?”

When it comes, he expected it. A bit. Because of the habit. But it still surprised him. That a man such as the American could kiss with such gentleness that it calmed his inner storm down. A storm that even he himself could not tame.

“You good?”

“ _Da._ But I will not apologize for the nose.”

Napoleon just smiled. “No need. Even I did a few good hit myself.” He said, while showing him the _ublyudok’s_ wallet, rolex watch and overly expensive phone. “Needless to say he won’t need it anymore. I’ll made sure he stationed somewhere far, far away. I heard Vietnam is great this time of year.”

Illya never said he was a good man. He knew he never was. So he admit it when he said he did not feel guilty when he felt a sense of satisfaction at the man’s fate. At least now the man could use his mouth (and body) for a better purpose.

\--------------------------------------

**Seven**

They were outnumbered, yes, Illya knew this. But they always got out from this kind of situation unscathed, mostly, so he did not worry much. With Napoleon at his back, and guns in his hands, he was convinced he could defeat all of them. 

Except when they ran out of luck.

He could feel it before he heard it. The impact and Napoleon’s back leaning against him for support, then grunt of pain. He turned back quickly, an unwise thing he supposed. But he cannot help it. He shot the man who hurt Napoleon, and grabbed Napoleon’s left arm, securing it behind his neck for support. The other hand held Napoleon under his armpit, leaving Napoleon’s right arm still holding a gun. He was shot at his stomach, on the right side, near his kidney. He hoped it was not his kidney that was shot. He was not sure.

They found a shelter, nearby, that they could use for cover. Illya quickly opened the small bag he carried for anything to close the wound. He found bandages, but they did not have the time to take the bullet out and close the wound properly so he binds it tightly around Napoleon’s stomach and back, the other trying to hold back the pain by gritting his teeth and clenching his palm. 

Finished with the wounds, Illya sat back, knew he should grabbed the gun, be on guard for Napoleon, but he admit, he was scared. He looked at Napoleon and his eyes were closed. He was still alive, logically, Illya knew from the way his chest moved, but his heart did not. He was about to lose him. Another person he cares about. This job is dangerous, yes, but he never properly thought about losing someone else before. Because he never _had_ someone. Not since his father, imprisoned in Gulag. Not since his mother, killed by the enemies of his father.

Maybe he should end this relationship. Make it disappear before it got to serious. But who was he kidding. This was already serious from the beginning. He would never enter a relationship if he was not serious about it. Never satisfied with one night stand. Too greedy.

He was shaken to his core. The air was too thin and he could not breathe—

A hand reached out to his cheek. Napoleon’s.

It was red from the blood. The _ublyudok_ was smearing it (purposely, he knew) on his cheek. “Come here.” He was helpless but to follow, Napoleon’s kissing him through bloodied lips, smearing it also into the inside of his mouth and he cannot help but taste it. The taste of death that he would not wish to taste again, but the fact that it was warm calmed him down. It meant that heart of his love was still beating. He did not fail. Not yet.

“Okay?” Napoleon asked, holding their forehead together.

Illya nodded.

“I’m still here, you know. Alive. Not dead, in case you didn’t notice.”

Illya nodded again. He let Napoleon leaned against the wall, a gun in his hand, ready for another war.

\--------------------------------------

**+1**

Napoleon was kidnapped. By someone with a grudge on him. Someone whose precious art collection was stolen by him, back when he was still a common art thief. It was no one’s mistake (probably the American’s), but Illya cannot help to also blame himself for allowing the kidnapping to happen. If he had been quicker. If he had been smarter. If he had been stronger—

“Illya!” Gaby called out to him. In her hand a gun she was already trained to use. “Don’t blame yourself.”

“I do not—“

But a look from Gaby and he shut his mouth. Gaby, from the few years he knew her, always seem to know what was going on anywhere. Her keen sense of everything was almost eerie. 

“We’ll get him back.” She assured him, a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Somehow it did not have the same calming effect as Napoleon’s.

\--------------------------------------

They managed to get him, thanks to Alexander Waverly, seeing him so quick and deadly in action it surprised Illya. He had a friend with him named Galahad and Percival _(Knights of The Round Table? American, British. They are all the same. Ridiculous)_ and together they vanquished the troops like it was child’s play. Illya was impressed.

They found Napoleon on one of the room, bloodied and bruised everywhere. Around him Illya can spot a few trace of torture that happened and he clenched his palm in anger, trying to keep his emotion in check. 

Illya could see a few cuts that need stitches on Napoleon, and the sign of concussion. Broken, cut out nails and broken ribs, from the way Napoleon held his side. At least he was alive. But when he reached out towards Napoleon, he flinched and held his body slightly away from Illya. It was barely noticable, but Illya’s trained eyes captured it. 

“Peril! Good to see you.” Napoleon was trying to act like it did not matter with a smile, but when Illya looked at him in the eye he knew he was caught, and gave a smile that was more of a reluctant upturn of his mouth.

“Later, alright?”

Illya nods in understanding. But his blood boils for murder for the man who tortured Napoleon.

When they arrived at the government approved hospital, all of Napoleon’s wound fixed and bandaged, still, he refused the pain medication. Telling them it’ll make his mind dull. He even insisted on sitting on the bed instead of lying down. _Stubborn man._

Illya sat on a chair beside the bed for hours. It was maddening, sitting there in silence, instead of hearing Napoleon’s usually cheery voice. Waiting for Napoleon to talk. _If,_ he wanted to talk, that is.

He started talking after a few hours in. 

“You know, for a spy, I don’t think I’m doing a very good job in handling torture. Especially when it was done to me.”

“You are not a spy. You are a thief.”

Napoleon gave a depreciative laugh. Illya did not mean to say it like that. He quickly said, “What I meant was—“

“I know what you mean. But yeah, I suppose I’m not really a spy. But I was a soldier. I was trained for war. Torture wasn’t supposed to affect me like this.” He raised one of his hands, holding it in front of his face and studying it. Illya can see how bad they shook.

“You do not have the extensive experience of torture that trained spies had. Do not blame yourself.” He reached for Napoleon’s hand on the bed, but pulled it out at the last minute, unsure if another touch would be welcomed. Napoleon caught the movement and grabbed his hand, holding the palm in his own, squeezing it lightly. Illya can still feel the tremor. “Again, even if you are trained. Human mind and body are unpredictable. The important thing is not only to withstand torture. But to be the survivor. You are a survivor. A champion over your torturer. Remember that.”

“I don’t particularly feel like I’m a winner right now.” he said, his head lowered slightly, turned away from Illya. His usual light composure and easy smile nowhere in sight. And for a moment, Illya wish they were.

Illya gritted his teeth. It was a shame he did not get to finish the man responsible himself. Gaby already got to him before himself can. But he imagined. Oh how he imagined how he would torture the man responsible. 

But now Napoleon need him now more than ever. Maybe.

He was not sure what he should do, but he remembered he had been in Napoleon’s position. Needing, but not daring to voice his need of someone by his side. He stood up and sat on the bed, Napoleon scooting over in response so they can sit side by side. Illya’s right hand sneaked behind the other man’s back, playing with curly black hair, silky to the touch. He cannot get enough of touching it, and he remembered how Napoleon laughed when he found out, that he too cannot get enough of Illya’s hair. He missed that laugh already.

Illya turned slightly, wrapped his hand on Napoleon’s cheek, pulling the lips slowly towards his. Their kiss was chaste and soft, careful of the split lips Napoleon had, and it seemed to calm Napoleon down, slowly diminishing his tremble.

They spent the day sitting on the hospital bed. Talking about nothing in particular until he felt a weight on his shoulder, Napoleon falling asleep in the middle of the talk. 

He smiled.

\--------------------------------------

**++1**

“Hey, Illya can I ask you something?”

It was a rare thing to do, Napoleon calling out to his name in the open. He had serious look on his face, biting his lips as a sign that he was nervous. So nervous he cannot control his tick. “Ah. It’s just—“ he eventually settling on, “Nothing. Forget it.”

“What. Tell me.”

He can see Napoleon resolved himself and say. “Alright, don’t freak out, but I want you to electrocute me. Sexually.” He then produce a box full of electric equipment, which Illya sure it was _not_ supposed to be used on humans. Let alone for pleasure.

“You are joking.”

“No, I’m not, really.”

Illya can see how serious Napoleon was but, “Why would I do that? It is painful and you have bad experience of it.”

“That’s the thing. I want to get rid of it. The memories. Can’t keep flinching every time I was electrocute on a mission. And believe me, I got electrocute _a lot._ Might messed something up in the future.” 

He did not want to do this. There might be a chance of some bad experience to resurface but he supposed that was what his lover intended to do. Bury the bad with the good one. He gave a dubious look to Napoleon.

“Awww. Come on, Peril. Please?” Napoleon knew the effect of his smile and his pleading look on Illya well.

“Fine. But we will stop when I see that you do not enjoy it.”

“Yes, sure. Now let me tell you how to put it on….”

\--------------------------------------

Napoleon was lying on their bed, in the small apartment they share in the middle of New York City. On his nipples he had two small, black clamps, which was going to send electric currents through it.

“Are you sure this is safe? This could send currents through your heart and kill you.”

He had the nerve to laugh. “Relax. These clamps have two electrodes each, most of the current will be confined to the very small bit of flesh trapped between the clamp’s jaws, which are my nipples. Since we wired up both nipples, the current will flow between them, and past the heart.”

Which means that he had used it before. It should make Illya worry, but instead he can feel his cock twitch in his pants in respond. 

Next he put the something that looks like a cock ring, but with a space for balls underneath it. He stroked Napoleon’s cock, the lube he dribbled before make a sticky, obscene sound. He alternate between slow and hard pace, while turning the electricity on the clamps on. Napoleon tensed for a while, but relaxed when he glanced below, seemingly assuring himself that it was Illya who’s with him and not somebody else. From the way he grabbed the sheet tightly Illya can see that he loved it.

Napoleon’s cock was hard now, pre-cum pooling on the head. Illya licked it, tasting saltiness and chemical taste of the lube. His lover bucked his hips to get more contact but Illya pinned him down. He also turned on the cock ring. Again, Napoleon tense, but it was more brief this time. He reached out to squeeze Illya’s hand for a while, looking him in the eye as he nods for him to continue.

Illya ripped a package with the words ‘TENS pads’ on it, four cream coloured pads with cords attached to it. He put one on each thigh, still doubtful how this might feel good to Napoleon. His thighs were hairy, and Illya could not help himself and ran his hand through the hair, soft to the touch. Napoleon shivered.

When he looked up Napoleon tried to put on a straight expression. “It tickles. If you please get on with it?”

The yelp he heard when he bit the inside of the thigh just out of spite was worth it. He put the rest of the pads on each of the sole of Napoleon’s feet.

Last, he lubed up a white thing that looks more of a dog’s chew toy than sex toy, but Napoleon assured him it was actually a prostate stimulator. He put his finger first, one by one inside Napoleon, to make sure he was loose enough for the toy. It was not big, but it did not hurt to always be prepared. Napoleon moaned, beads of sweat rolling down from his forehead and neck into the pillow, which was already drenched in sweat from all the stimulation before. Then he slowly pushed the stimulator in, ridges per ridges, until it was snug inside of the hole.

When he turned it on, the reaction was an instant surprised groan, Napoleon planting his feet down on the bed and bucking up. But then he quickly fell down again, as the electric current from his feet gave more sensation as he pressed it down. Illya sat back down, admiring his work, this art that was so beautifully sensual and erotic. It was the only description he had for Napoleon right now. Body spread, displayed for Illya’s viewing pleasure, curly hair loose and matted back to his forehead with sweat. Napoleon kept his moan loud without shame, keened in pleasure and eyes rolled back when Illya sucked the head of his cock hard, tongue tingled with electricity. He held himself back from touching his cock. It was Napoleon’s time now, not his. But it was tempting.

When he turned up the electricity on the stimulator slowly to the highest, Napoleon’s hole clenched and Illya can see his thighs tensing and relaxing because of the electric wave of the pads.

Then Napoleon looked up, eyes full of passion and lust, but also fear. But Illya can sense that it was not because of unpleasantness, or how the memory of the torture finally resurfacing. Perhaps reassurance.

Both of his hands reached out, drawing Illya’s shoulder up. He kept calling Illya’s name, like he expect Illya to do something about this. About this overload of passion and sensation that he felt right now. Illya kissed him on the lips hard, running his tongue on Napoleon’s lips when he drew back, just a little bit, their breaths still mingle along with small whine and sob that Napoleon let out, cannot hold it back from the sheer sensation. “I am here.” Illya said, with gentleness in voice he did not think he had. “Napoleon.”

Napoleon gave a full body shudder, shooting his load all over into his hairy chest and stomach. It kept going on for a while (Illya was impressed by how much it was, considering their regular nightly activity). His lover had his eyes closed now, trying to regulate his breath. He whined, from overstimulation, and Illya was quick to remove all the equipment, storing it back to the box to be cleaned and perhaps for later use. 

He nearly jumped when he felt a hand reaching towards his cock, freeing it from the confines of his pants. He groaned in relief, and it was not long before he came, shooting it accidentally all over Napoleon’s face and mouth.

“ _blyat!_ I am sorry! Let me clean you up.”

Instead of getting angry, however, Napoleon just licked his lips seductively, as if it was what he wanted in the first place. Illya gave him an unimpressed look, before proceeding to clean both of them up. Illya then laid down on the bed, ready for Napoleon to hog him in his usual way. It was logical, since his body length was wider than Illya, but then he turned his back, a sign of him wanting to be the small spoon. It surprised Illya. But he complied, and kissed the back of his lover’s neck, falling asleep with the steady sound of Napoleon’s breathing.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know I cheat. Instead of Five Plus One I now wrote Seven Plus One. And another plus one so it’s actually Seven Plus Two. I apologize for this weirdness.
> 
> Also, I don’t have any experience writing about torture aftermath so apologize if I’m doing it wrong.
> 
> Galahad and Percival, yes from Kingsman. The older generation of Galahad and Percival.
> 
> Meaning of the words :  
> Signore – mister  
> Da- yes  
> Chert yego - damn him  
> Ostat'sya yeshche! - Stay still!  
> Ublyudok – bastard  
> blyat - as the kind allmyinvisiblemonsters pointed out "It literally means whore the same way that shit literally means poop, but it's the way a person exclaims in Russian"
> 
> Trivia (?) :  
> *The term making out is, of course, originated in America, dating back to at least 1949.  
> *The word cute has been used since 18th century, the word originated from Acute, which means ‘clever’, but in the late 19th century the word’s mean shifted into ‘attractive, pretty, charming.’  
> *Vietnam war : November 1, 1955 – April 30, 1975
> 
> Sex toys used (probably not available in the 1960's/1970's but let's just say it was) :  
> *TENS Pads : http://twistedclinic.com/shop/electro-stimulation/e-stim-gear-for-men/replacement-tens-pads.html
> 
> *Cock ring thingy (actually called Zeus Electrosex Possessor Electro Scrotum Sack- Master Series Edition) : http://www.amazon.ca/Zeus-Electrosex-Possessor-Electro-Scrotum/dp/B00IT5JWDO/ref=pd_sim_sbs_121_1/191-4761874-3103656?ie=UTF8&refRID=07SWE9MWX6KYVS0EXVT9
> 
> *Prostate Stimulator : http://www.amazon.com/Mangasm-Electro-Electrosex-Prostate-Stimulator/dp/B008M4MYC8
> 
> *Electric Nipple Clamps (called Barry Bite) : http://store.mystim.com/b2c_en/barry-bite.html
> 
> *Article on safe, electro stimulation sex : http://asibdsm.com/shocking-tips-electrosex-stimulation/
> 
> \----------------------------------------------
> 
> Hit me up if you wanna chat : @harukaryuumao


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